


Spirits of the land

by SiobhanMcG



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Chiji the bird mention, Chiss!Spirit, Force Dyad (Star Wars), Force Ghost(s), God of Arepo AU, Grief, Happy Ending, I suppose major character death but not in a cruel way, M/M, Mentioned Ar'alani (Star Wars), Mentioned Formbi, Mentioned ba'kif, Minor Character Death, More expressive Thrawn, Mystical vibes, Not Really Character Death, Spirit!Thrawn, Very light Thranto, spirits and gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28193238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiobhanMcG/pseuds/SiobhanMcG
Summary: Eli is a Lysatran trader who one day, inspired by the stories of Chiss spirits and gods his parents told him, builds a small shrine in the corner of his field. The next day, a spirit moves in.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Spirits of the land

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [God of Arepo](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/728868) by Various. 



When he was a boy, his parents told him about the gods of old and the Chiss, both once common on Lystra, but now only a few gods remained and the Chiss were only present as spectres and ghosts of the land, mere shadows of their former selves. Nevertheless, Eli loved the stories and even as an adult he was fascinated with them. No matter how many other systems he had visited on their trading routes, nothing enraptured him like the stories that were told on Lysatra. Yet he wasn’t a religious man— not really. Whilst he brought his offerings and visited the temple regularly enough, he often felt disconnected. Asif his spirit could not settle; he craved a deeper connection— a more personal one.  
  
One day, after working the field behind their compound his eyes land on a spot in the corner of his field, surrounded by trees and cool yet bright. A sudden flash of inspiration comes to him and before he realises what is happening, a shrine is being formed by his hands. It is awkward and askew, he is a trader, not a builder. It’s made out of stones and pieces of wood. It is not very grand, but he hopes someone will come and visit.

_I hope you’ll be a harvest god or maybe even one for traders, that’d be nice y’know, but it’s okay if you’re not._

More than anything he craves company, his heart still raw and barely healing. 

_Mum._

Before heading in again to take care of the import manifests, he places some jogan fruits and caf in front of the shrine. With his father away, it was all he had that wasn’t ration bars or food that came out of a sachet. 

“I know it ain’t much— but I will share what I can.” He shrugged self consciously. _It’d be nice to think someone is looking after me._ Eli added silently, sitting back on his heels. “Right, I better get back to work.”

He slept fitfully that night, his mind drifting back to the small shrine. Not daring to hope, but unable to stop himself wishing. When both the fruits and jogans were gone he smiled. At least he wasn’t alone anymore. However, by the end of the week, he had run out of food that was vaguely presentable to another being. _If only his mother had been here_.

So he crouched down in front of his small shrine, explaining he wouldn’t have any offerings today, but he’d go into town tomorrow and buy something. Suddenly, a deep voice rose from the shrine, smooth and silky with an edge of clear intelligence.

“It would be better for you to visit the temple in the city.” His heart sank in his chest and his shoulders sagged. 

“Oh.” Eli looked down at his shrine, maybe it wasn’t suitable for his ‘visitor’ or maybe the being had realised what a _sad and pathetic—_

“I enjoy this shrine and your gifts. But you would gain more from bringing your offerings to the temple in the city.”

The weight in his chest lifted as the shadow passed from his mind.  
  
“I will stay if that’s okay with you. This is already more than I was expecting.”

If you say so.” The voice was cool, but not disapproving or argumentative, simply accepting. That suited Eli just fine.

“What kinda god are you anyway?”

“I am no god, but I am of the falling rain. The boundary of sea and sky. The hint of frost before the first snowfall. The shimmer of a ysalmir’s scales. The first stroke of a brush on a new canvas. The fleeting realisations in the deep of the night which are long forgotten when you wake. I am of a dozen different nothings, unconscious traces of the self that inhabit every touch, momentary glimpses dismissed by all but a few. A fleeting thought, and then it's gone.”

He sat down, thinking and considering what the spirit just said when it spoke again.

“It would be more advantageous to worship War, Harvest or the Storm.” There was a tense pause in his speech, but it lasted only a second. “A being such as yourself in this world should seek patronage from a being more powerful than myself.”

“I like this just fine. So if ya don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”

“Do what you will. But do not say I ever warned you otherwise.” There was no malice in the voice, only quiet resignation perhaps laced with an infinitesimal fraction of relief.

Eli stood up and made to return to his office, but then stopped.

“I never asked your name.”

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” The sounds were foreign; liquid and melodic as they flowed through this mind. He thought he heard the spirit smile. “But you may call me Thrawn.”

* * *

Then came Ziara, the Storm, powerful and tempestuous. Her inky hair swirled around her as she rained down lighting and thunder. The black bird accompanying her painted the skies black like its feathers, for only her red eyes to break through thick clouds as she swept away all that stood in her way. Their ships —and by extension his father— were grounded for as long as the storm tormented Lysatra. Where they once might have sat down and played a friendly game of sabacc or Dejarik, there was only tense silence as his father hid himself away. When he still could, he ventured out to leave offerings for Mitth’raw’nuruodo— Thrawn, but for the last five rotations, he hadn’t been able to leave the house, let alone reach the shrine. When the storm finally let up the house, the shipping yard and warehouse had only sustained minor damage. His father had left in the morning when sleep was still heavy in Eli’s mind, leaving him and Thrawn alone once more. He was unsure when he started thinking about Thrawn as another member of his household but it brought him solace to do so. Of the hours he wasn’t in his office, most were spent outside talking to the Chiss spirit about art, languages, his company and all and everything in between.

The shrine was destroyed; stones and wood scattered throughout the mud, but Eli could still feel Thrawn’s presence. As he started to collect the stones, he heard his familiar voice.

“You are wasting your efforts.” Thrawn’s voice sounded strained. 

Eli simply gave a non-committal hum. By now he knew Thrawn well enough to know what he was upset, even if he would never admit to it. So he just listened, allowing the Chiss to voice his frustrations, in his own roundabout way.

“We’ll be fine. The storm has passed and we’re all still here.”

“Are we?” 

_Ah._ Eli swallowed. As a rule, they didn’t talk much about his parents, but supposed there was no hiding it from Thrawn. _No need to beat around the Meiloorun bush._

“He hasn’t been here for a while, not really.” He looks down at the stones lying heavy in his hands. “I was alone here before you came.”

“Then I am glad I came.”

Eli smiled, dropping the stones back in the mud. “I’m all out of edible food after this week, but let’s build you a better foundation. We don’t want you blowing away at the next storm.”

To his marvel, Thrawn laughed a deep and melodic, but light laugh. The sound filled him as it filtered through his brain. “She always _was_ formidable.”

* * *

Several uneventful cycles passed and whilst Eli could never quite forget the pain that had led him to build the initial shrine so many cycles ago, he felt he had moved on. He had inherited his parents’ company as his father had left to live with his brother, a decision which had been good for both of them. Whilst their relationship would never be what it once was, Eli felt at peace. And most importantly, Thrawn had stayed with him throughout it all, now in a large shrine decorated with art the Chiss had requested. And as his shrine changed and grew, Thrawn’s spirit had taken the shape of the Chiss of old—a reflection of his former self Thrawn had informed him. His eyes shone a bright red, often visible from the entrance of the shrine. Many thought it was alarming or even menacing, but Eli thought it was comforting. As was Thrawn’s voice and his presence. He sometimes wondered what it would have felt like to touch Thrawn, all those thousands of cycles ago. But then he felt guilt. Thrawn was his _friend_ and a _spirit_ , even if he wasn’t aware of any himself, surely there was some taboo against it. Yet, in his unguarded moments, he could not stop himself from wondering if Thrawn’s ink-black hair would have been as soft as Eli imagined it.

Their peace was shattered as their luck suddenly turned. Star Destroyers appeared in the skies above Lysatra, darkening even the brightest days. Food was soon rationed and trade had become nonexistent. Whilst Eli was happy with ration bars and meal sachets, his father needed meals with actual nutritional value, so he split whatever meagre fruits he could find between Thrawn and his father.

“There is nothing I can do for you. There is nothing to be done. What are I and this temple to you but another burden?”

“You are my friend.”

“And what a friend I have been.” Thrawn’s voice was sharp and cut through his exhausted and tired mind like jagged glass.

Something swelled in him, exhaustion and anger filled his empty stomach. “Yes—it has been a rough year, but not my first one. We may be hungry, but we have each other haven’t we?! I thought that was enough.” His ears burned, but he stood by his words. It was enough— they were enough. _They had to be._

Thrawn cast his eyes downwards, their glow dimmed. “I apologise. I did not mean to hurt you, I merely wish for you to be well— A goal I am unable to achieve.”

“It’s okay.” Eli smiled through his exhaustion, stroking the stones of the temple. “Others prayed to other gods and it didn’t save them from this either. So I think our arrangement is just fine.”

Thrawn sighed. “If you are content, I am content.” The Chiss turned his gaze upwards, contemplative. “Formbi was always temperamental.” Eli frowned, Thrawn seemed to know most major gods and spirits well, yet he himself was oddly small in comparison. He felt Thrawn could have easily been a force to be reckoned with, his mind and intellect incomparable to anything Eli had ever seen. Yet he was here, in a small temple in the corner of Eli’s field. Secretly, he was glad— in an odd kind of possessive way. Thrawn’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“There will come worse.” Eli frowned. For once Thrawn did not sound upset, simply resigned as he rested his hand over Eli’s— And not for the first time Eli wished he could properly feel it beyond a faint whisper. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”

He wished it had been longer before Thrawn’s premonition came bearing down on them. He had hoped that maybe grey would have started to streak his hair, that he might have nearly forgotten the Chiss’ words. But not even a single cycle had passed before the Empire came and burned Lysatra. Eli thought he knew what Imperial occupation meant; he thought he knew what war meant. But neither his trips to Lothal nor his holos and the stories about the Clone Wars could describe the anguish he felt as his homeworld burned under his feet. Smoke so sickenly thick it obscured even the Star Destroyers filled the air as day and night blended into one long flame-filled twilight. When the rebels came to his house asking for shelter, he did the only thing he could: he let them in and for the brief period, the Vanto house was full of life again. Even Thrawn seemed less worried for a brief moment, happily discussing tactics and strategy with the rebel leaders; Eli was content to simply listen as he leaned against the shrine. But like all other things, this too had to come to an end. And when the Empire came to his home, he did the one thing he couldn’t do: he fought. The cold metal of a borrowed blaster lay heavy in his hands as he ducked behind the holotable where he used to play Dejarik. Troopers were swarming where his mother used to cook breakfast for him and where he shot one, three seemed to take their place. Bodies were starting to fall around him, rebels and imperials alike. Eli knew that his time was limited, but did not feel fear as he thought he would, merely longing. _Thrawn_. Grasping the side where a blaster had grazed him, he stumbled out into the field behind his house. The temple stood quietly in the dark corner of the field, shadows and reflections from the fires licking its stones. Inside, red eyes shone furiously.

“I could not save them.” Thrawn’s voice was flat, but Eli could feel rage and anguish boiling underneath the surface. “I won’t be able to save you.” He sank down onto the grass, laying his head down on the stone slab. “Nothing. For all those years I have done nothing for you.”

“You are here.” Eli looked up at Thrawn’s face, clearer now than he had ever seen it as he took in the sharp edges of his jaws and cheekbones one last time. 

“And soon you will not be.” Thrawn’s hands curled around his head for the first time, lifting him onto his lap, cradling him. It was a strange sensation, but Eli relished it.

“Sshh.” He tasted his blood in his mouth, suddenly tired as the adrenaline left him. “Tell me again, what sort of spirit you are.”

“Eli.” Thrawn’s voice broke as his hands tightened their hold, pulling him to the Chiss’ chest.

“Please.”

“I am of the falling rain. The boundary of sea and sky.”

Eli listened, hearing the rain and wind in Thrawn’s voice. 

“The hint of frost before the first snowfall.” 

_Csilla, the planet that was once Thrawn’s home._

“The shimmer of a ysalmir’s scales.”

_He smiled, knowing they were Thrawn’s favourite animals and had become Eli’s too. They had considered getting some but realised there was no way they could provide the lizards with the environment they would need. He had been sad, but now looking at the blazing structure that was once his house, he was glad._

“The first stroke of a brush on a new canvas.”

_Art. Something he had never considered before meeting the Chiss spirit. Something they talked about many mornings, afternoons, evenings and nights. Something Thrawn shared with him. Something he had learned to remember his mother by. A true reflection of the world._

“The fleeting realisations in the deep of the night which are long forgotten when you wake.”

 _He remembered the many late evenings, thinking about his life, his parents, his future and his past. If there was a greater purpose for him in life he had somehow missed. If he had been meant to spend his life on Lysatra. Whether he could have done more for his mother, cared better for his father. If he could have been more than a simple trader. And then there were the nights he had thought about Thrawn; if he could have met him while he was still alive. If they could have been friends then, if they might have shared more than stories._

“I am of a dozen different nothings, unconscious traces of the self that inhabit every touch, momentary glimpses dismissed by all but a few.” Eli smiled, lacing his fingers with Thrawn’s, something he had never thought possible but now felt more natural than life itself. “A fleeting thought, and then it's gone.”

“Beautiful”

A single drop fell on Eli’s cheek as he looked into Thrawn’s blazing eyes one last time.

“It was all so beautiful.”

His house burned and the smoke became so thick it became impossible to tell whether it was day or night. Thrawn bowed his head, resting his forehead against Eli’s and he felt at peace.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Many lonely years passed by, the shrine was now overgrown with vines and blue flowers winding their roots between the stones as their petals waved with the gentle breeze.

A young twilek woman came by, seeking for those whose bodies burned many cycles ago. She found the temple and the bones in it, her face fell as she remembered the stories of the trader who had offered her people refuge— The trader and the spirit who accompanied him.

“You protected our people, but there was no one here to bury him.”

A voice rose from the stones, deep and melodic. “His name was Eli, he was a trader. He fought when the Empire came to burn his home.”

She nodded, glad he had not been alone all these years. “How could I honour him?”

“Bury him here, so I may finally protect him.”

“I can do that.”

As Hera dug, she felt a presence swirling around the pale bones.

“Your spirit is strong.” She voice was pained. “It reminds me of someone I once knew, his spirit was strong too.”

“I was once a warrior, but there is nothing I can do for you now.”

She remained silent. His words are painfully familiar, but she has learned that the best she can do is listen

“When Ziara -the Storm— came, wreaking her havoc and grounding his ships, I was powerless. When Fortune -Formbi— failed him and he fell hungry, I could not feed him. When War came” Thrawn fell silent for a moment. “When Ba’kif came, I could not protect him. He came here bleeding and died in my arms.”

Hera rested her hand on the stones.

“I think you are the spirit of something far greater.”

“What may that be.”

Even without seeing him, she could sense his confusion. “You were there for him when his mother passed, were you not?”

"I was indeed."

“You were there when he was alone, without friends or family?”

“Yes.”

She continued. “And you were there to hold and comfort him in his last moments?”

“I was.”

She smiled, standing up from her crouched down position after placing some flowers on the newly dug grave. “Then you were the most important of all.”

She looked around, spotting a flash of green hair peeking from behind a familiar orange droid. They must have finished their investigation of what was once Eli Vanto’s home. “Come along now guys.

They gather their tools and get on their speeders, leaving the field to grow quiet once more. But before Thrawn can drift off again in his usual state of meditation, a familiar voice rises from the earth in front of him.

“Hello spirit of hidden meanings and humble beauty— Hello, Thrawn.”

He turns around at the new, but familiar voice. Not daring to hope, but wishing nevertheless. The glowing red of his eyes meets a deep, warm brown with honey-golden flecks reflecting in the sunlight.

“Eli.” Despite not having drawn air in over a century, his breathing stops. Before him stands Eli -warm and radiant— immortal, but filled with life and light itself.

“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendship, respect and trust.”

Thrawn smiles.

“That’s wonderful, Eli. I am pleased for you— you will become a powerful and respected god. You have been given what you have always deserved.”

“I could not have learned it without you.”

“You will command a great temple, you will serve our people well— Will you leave for the city?”

“No.”

Thrawn smiled again, but this time to hid his melancholy at losing the person he only just regained— but Eli had a purpose now, greater than both of them. He was glad to see how Eli had changed and grown into himself, having taken Thrawn’s teachings to heart but then made them his own.  
  
“To the capital then? You are right to want more even if you are not a Chiss spirit, I am sure you will do well among them. I am glad you visited here before your departure.” 

“No, I will not go there either.”

“You have grown ambitious, but there is no doubt in my mind you will succeed wherever your plans will take you.”

“Actually, I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.” He laid his hand on top of Thrawn’s, the Force radiating through him and connecting them.  
  
“Here?” Thrawn was the closest to befuddled he had been in a century.

Eli simply smiled, twining their fingers together. “Yes.”

“Why? Why would you want to live here?” Thrawn gestured to the shrine behind them— small and abandoned, overgrown with flowers and only visited by wildlife.

“Because I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendship. And you are the god of Eli.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's a God of Arepo AU (see link at the top) where Chiss spirits are around and some have become gods. Ar'alani, Formbi and Ba'kif have become major ones, but Thrawn had no such luck and remained a minor spirit. 
> 
> Could also be read as a sneaky force dyad.


End file.
